Cleaning This Gun
by Misguided Choices
Summary: "It's all for show, ain't nobody gonna get hurt. It's just a Daddy thing, and hey believe me, man it works." AU-Tony has to deal with something he's not used to. His baby girl and her first date. R&R


A/N: Holy crap. Do your eyes deceive you? No, they do not, dear readers. I've actually come back from the dead. I'm sorry-college got hectic and I had no time to write. But it's the summer now, well…some of it's gone, but I'm writing. I have the rest of June, all of July, and some of August to entertain you all.

This is just a one shot, based off the song Cleaning This Gun, by Rodney Atkins. Yeah, country. It happens. You go to a school in Maryland where half of your building listens to it, and then you start to listen to it. Anyway, as you read, you can tell what happens and how this song fits. I hope you enjoy. R&R please, tell me what you think!

One more thing. I have no idea what the mechanisms or parts of a gun are. So please, forgive the crappy description.

* * *

><p><em>She's her Daddy's Girl<br>__Her Momma's world  
><em>_She deserves respect  
><em>_That's what she'll get  
><em>_Ain't it son?  
><em>_Now you go on and have some fun  
><em>_I'll see you when you get  
><em>_Probably be up all night  
><em>_Still cleaning this gun_

He sat at the kitchen table, the ceiling light burning bright as he worked. Pieces and equipment lay in front of him across the table. As he lightly dusted the heavy, cool metal object in his hand, he listened to the noises in his house. He heard the light footsteps of his wife, moving from their son's room to their daughter's room. He heard the faint music from his little girl's room, as she got ready.

For her date.

Her date. His little girl, his baby, was going on a date.

Granted, she wasn't little anymore, but she always would be to him. Adina Marie DiNozzo, sixteen years old, with bright green eyes like her fathers, and curly dark ringlets from her mother, was going on a date. So he sat at the kitchen table, pondering and cleaning his gun. Not his sig, but his spare. The one he kept in the lock box and only would take out for occasions such as this.

"Daddy, have you seen my…"

He turned around to see Adina, her arms across her chest, glaring at him. God, she looked like her mother when she did that.

"Daddy, you need to put that away. Greg's going to be here in a few minutes. Can you please not scare him?"

He turned back to the task at hand, a smirk on his face. "Sweetie, why would I want to do that? I won't scare him."

She squinted her eyes, glaring holes in her fathers back. "Have you seen my shoes?"

A voice answered her question, moving through the hallway to meet her.

"They should be in your room. You know, this would not happen if you just did not leave them in the middle of the house."

"Thanks Mom," she said, rolling her eyes "I'm going to look for them again." She turned, but grabbed her mother's hand before leaving.

"Can you do something about Dad?"

In response, her mother nodded her head once and sent her daughter on her mission for Adina's shoes.

"Tony, put the gun away."

"But Ziva…" he whined, turning to face his wife.

"You know how important this is to Adina. She really seems to like this boy."

Before he could answer, the doorbell rang. The pair turned their heads to the door, and then met each other's gaze. They had a small, silent battle before Tony jumped up from his chair, gun in hand, and raced for the door. His wife, quick to take action, ran after him. As they jogged the small distance, Ziva jumped on her husbands back, relieving a gasp from the Italian.

"Ziva. Get off."

"No," she responded adamantly.

He groaned, placing the gun on the end table, and moved his hands behind his back. In one quick motion, his fingers attacked his wife's sides. She gasped, laughing, as he tickled her until Ziva released her grip.

"Tony! Stop," she said, gasping between laughs.

"Not until you get off my back, wifey."

The doorbell rang again, and Ziva only clung to him tighter. He sighed, moving them toward the back of the couch. Soon enough, Ziva loosened her death grip, and fell from his back onto the couch.

Right away, Tony ran toward the door, picked up his sidearm, and had his hand on the doorknob. He looked behind him, to the living room, and found his wife was nowhere in sight. With the go ahead, he opened the door.

"Greg, right? Come on in,"

The boy in front of him stood with his hands behind his back. The boy, who was tall and had a strong build, stood in the doorway. He had dirty blonde hair, green eyes, and a smile that was all too charmer. Essentially, a DiNozzo smile. If Tony wasn't worried before, he was now. Greg seemed confident, until his eyes fell on to the firearm at Tony's side. He slowly made his way inside, walking past Tony as the older man closed the door.

"Can I get you anything to drink? Water?" Tony asked, as he ushered them both toward the dinning room table.

"Uh, no thank you, Mr. DiNozzo," the boy answered, sitting down and eyeing the table.

"So Greg," Tony began, hands folded on the table, "if that is your name…"

The young boy looked up, confused. He opened his mouth but shut it as Tony continued.

"You're in Adina's grade?"

"Yes, that's right."

"Do you do any sports?"

"Just basketball. I write when I can."

"How long have you lived in DC?"

"For about…"

"What's your address?"

"What?"

"What about your social security?"

"I…"

"Ever commit a crime?"

"No!"

"What about your parents?"

"Tony!"

Both men turned to see Ziva, a glare on her face, walking toward them.

"Stop," she whispered, delivering a swift smack to the back of his head. She turned to Greg, a smile now on her face, "I'm sorry Greg. Adina should be down in a minute."

"It's fine Mrs. DiNozzo," he said. "And for the record, my parents haven't commit a crime-they're both lawyers."

Tony turned his head toward his wife "They're both lawyers…"

"Yes, Tony. Lawyers."

They all turned as they heard clipping of shoes coming down the stairs.

Adina smiled, but it faltered a bit as she caught sight of the gun on the dinning room table. "Sorry Greg. Didn't mean to keep you waiting."

"It's fine, Dee, I was just talking to your parents."

She nodded, and the group all moved toward the front door. Adina quickly gave her mother a chaste kiss on the cheek and then turned to her father.

"I love you, Princess," her father said, leaning down to kiss her forehead.

She sighed and wrapped her arms around her father's waist. "I love you too, Daddy."

She released her grip, and the two teens headed toward the open door.

"I'll see you when you get back," Tony called, as the door shut.

"Really?"

He turned around to face his wife, in the same position his daughter had been before. Arms crossed, eyes glaring, Ziva David-DiNozzo was ready to fight.

"Come on, Ziva. You can't tell me you would do something similar if Matthew was going out with some girl."

She chuckled, her eyes going wide a bit at her husband's truth. "Your son is twelve. He still thinks girls have cookies. It will be awhile before he goes on a date. And, no, I will not act like you did tonight."

"Cooties," Tony corrected, walking toward his wife and wrapping his arms around her. "I'm sorry. She's just my little girl."

She sighed, wrapping her arms around him as well. "I know. It'll be okay. She'll be fine."

She leaned her chin on his chest, looking up toward him. They both smiled, and closed the distance between them. He still saw an array of fireworks, felt the butterflies in his stomach, and heard the sappy love music every time they kissed. After all these years, he knew he would never get tired of kissing his wife. He smiled and then let out a small chuckle. She broke the kiss and looked at him.

"What?" she questioned.

"Do you think you could get your knife collection out?"

She rolled her eyes, escaping his grasp and heading toward their son's room.

"What? It was just a question! Ziva, come on."

The door closed and he waited a few seconds.

"I'm serious. Ziva, I need them! Come on!"


End file.
